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Sylvain had always appreciated horses. There was just something about them that drew him in. Creatures of immense power, yet they were so gentle. They didn’t whisper behind his back or throw him disgusted looks. Sylvain had always put up the front that the gossip and cruel words that were passed around about him were of little importance, but the truth was they stung, just a bit, and the constant berating had left him with an aching wound to his heart. But horses… They helped mend it with their kind eyes and soft muzzles that they nudged against his cheek in greeting when he helped with the morning feed rounds. He knew it often surprised people, to find he liked the creatures, but he didn’t mind; it was almost nice to have something surprise people, instead of a weary sigh and a mumble of, There he goes again, chasing after another poor girl.
He’s sitting in the stable of his horse on a Sunday that Byleth had given them off when he hears a familiar voice, looking up from where he’s working leather grease into the seat of his saddle with his fingers.
“There you are,” Felix says, coming to lean against the closed lower half of the stable door. “Doing something productive. I didn’t know you could manage that.” Sylvain quirks a half-smile at his insulting greeting, humming as he dips his fingers back into the jar of grease.
“You know I’m almost always in one of three places, Felix: my room, some girl’s room, or the stables.” He massages the grease into the skirt with a soft hum. “What’s up?”
“I was going to drag you to the training grounds with me,” the younger says. “But since you’re actually doing something beneficial… I suppose I shouldn’t interrupt.” Sylvain hears the latch of the door being undone and the susurration of the sawdust as Felix steps inside. “Did Ingrid make you clean your gear?”
“No. I like doing this kind of thing. I don’t need someone to tell me to do it.” Unlike with his other tasks around the monastery… Sylvain had always been self-motivated when it came to horses. They were living, breathing animals. Their comfort and safety was reliant upon him, and that was something that Sylvain took pretty seriously. Once again, he looks up at Felix, who is now leaning against the wall across from him, arms crossed over his chest. “Are you gonna supervise me? Make sure I do a good enough job?”
Felix gives a curt nod. “I’ll make sure you don’t fuck it up like you do with most things.”
Sylvain rolls his eyes before taking another scoop of the grease, moving on to working it into the saddle flap and knee roll closest to him.
“What’re you using your hands for anyway? Couldn’t find a cloth? Surprised you didn’t just nick one from someone else’s gear.”
“I have plenty of rags,” Sylvain says. “I just like using my hands more. Warms the grease up and works it into the leather better. I go over with a cloth at the end to clean up any excess, get it all out of the stitching and stuff.” He works a finger under the stirrup leather keeper, curling it slightly to make sure he cleans out any dirt that may be trapped. “It also softens my own hands, so that’s an added bonus. The ladies like a soft, gentle touch.”
Felix gives an unamused sound at that. “Of course,” he says. “Nearly everything you do has the added benefit of impressing the ladies.”
“Well, yeah. I have to stick to my branding,” Sylvain says with a laugh before they lapse into silence. The future margrave continues to work, moving onto the underside of the flap and the girth points before turning the saddle around to give the other side the same treatment.
“You’re so slow,” Felix says, finally breaking the peacefulness that Sylvain had been working in.
“I never said you had to stay and watch,” he reminds his friend, quirking an eyebrow at him. “You’re the one who chose to be here.” His eyebrow remains raised as he picks up the soft pink that dusts over Felix’s cheeks, noticeable thanks to how fair his skin is. “You can always help if you want me to go somewhere else with you.”
“Of course you need help,” Felix says, making Sylvain bite back his smile at the predictable way his friend twists his words to shift the blame back off himself. Nonetheless, he pushes away from the wall and comes over to where Sylvain is sitting, his seat an upturned plastic bucket. “How is your ass not numb from that?” The swordsman nudges the bucket with the toe of his boot, arms still folded as he looks down at Sylvain.
“Used to it, I guess,” the redhead says. He looks up to meet mahogany eyes before his gaze drops to eye level, blinking when he met with an eyeful of Felix’s crotch. It takes an embarrassingly long moment for him to move his focus back to his saddle, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue as he reaches for the grease again. “If you want to help, you could grab my bridle for me. I need to clean that next. It’s hanging up in the tack room on the back wall. My name is above it.”
“I never said I was going to help, just that you needed it,” Felix says even as he turns to leave the stable, returning moments later with Sylvain’s bridle in hand.
“Thanks, Flick,” Sylvain hums, reaching out to accept the gear and set it aside out of the way until he’s finished with the saddle.
“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” Felix asks even as he hands the bridle over, his fingers lingering as they brush against Sylvain’s, who can’t help but think the demanding question doesn’t hold the heat it usually does.
“Is everything okay?” he can’t help but ask, frowning slightly in concern. Not only was the gentler tone unusual, but there was the fact that the younger had willingly stayed as Sylvain did what he thought was probably a pretty boring chore, especially to watch being done. Not to mention that Felix had sought him out in the first place.
“Don’t be stupid,” Felix says, his brow creasing slightly. “Of course I am.” But when he doesn’t meet Sylvain’s eyes, he knows something is up.
“C’mon Felix. You know you can talk to me. We’ve known each other forever.” Sylvain uses his clean(er) hand to take Felix’s again, squeezing gently when the swordsman doesn’t pull his sword calloused hand from his grip. “Flick…”
“You must’ve hit your head that time Miklan pushed you into the well,” Felix bristles. “For someone who is meant to be good with flirting and relationships, you really are oblivious.” Sylvain scrunches his nose up in confusion, but he doesn’t have the chance to ask Felix to elaborate on what he means or why he’s saying such things before the other teen’s hand curls in the front of his shirt, hauling him up off his bucket seat and into a bruising kiss.
Sylvain nearly over-balances as he goes from being eye level with Felix’s crotch to standing several inches taller than him, his hands automatically reaching to settle on his friend’s waist to steady himself. He pulls back from the kiss to exhale a startled breath; his cheeks feel just as red as Felix’s look. He can see a brief flicker of fear in the shorter teen’s eyes, but Sylvain doesn’t give him the chance to pull away or open his mouth to snap something to protect himself, closing the distance between their lips again in a gentler, but still needy kiss.
He can feel Felix’s moment of doubt melt away as their lips meld together, the hand curled in the material of his shirt loosening but not releasing its hold entirely. Sylvain knows his thoughts would be racing with a hundred questions if he wasn’t so fixated on just how soft Felix’s lips were beneath his own and how he never wants to stop kissing him. Sadly, the latter is something he can’t achieve, having to pull back after several minutes to draw in a deep breath and give himself a moment to really process that he’d just kissed his best friend and that the whole thing had been initiated by Felix.
Felix, who was a lone wolf and didn’t let anyone so much as touch his hand when being handed an object, had been the one to pull Sylvain into a kiss that he’d never even let himself dream of. Laughter bubbles up from his chest and out between his lips, a sound of joy, the kind that he hasn’t felt in a long time.
“I don’t think I mind being an idiot if it means you’ll kiss me like that,” he says once he calms again. His hands have moved from Felix’s svelte waist to splay out over his back, curling slightly into the material of his vest.
“Shut up,” Felix responds. “You have better things to be doing than talking.” And oh, don’t those words send thoughts racing through Sylvain’s mind. He’s seen Felix undressed of course, in the bathhouses and the times he’s accidentally walked in on him coming out of the showers after training, but he’s never seen him naked . And by the Goddess, does Sylvain want to see Felix naked, all because of him. He wants to be the one to undress him, slowly, his lips following his hands in trailing down fair skin.
A cool hand curling in his hair and giving an impatient tug drags him back out his daydreams, making him realise that he doesn’t need to fantasize when he has Felix in his arms, looking at him with an expression that could be called a pout, though not to his face unless there was a desire to be hit. A smirk tugs at Sylvain’s lips, which is always an expression that should be taken as a warning when it came to him. He steps forward, forcing Felix to step backwards until his back meets one wooden wall of the stable before leaning down to seal their lips together again, swallowing down the sound that escapes the younger’s lips at the turn of who had the upper hand.
Freeing his hands from where they were momentarily trapped between Felix and the wall, Sylvain glides them down over the swordsman’s hips and upper thigh before cupping just under the swell of his ass. He applies a brief amount of pressure in warning before gripping firmly and lifting up, until Felix is at the height where he can easily wrap his legs around Sylvain’s waist to support himself with the help of the wall.
There’s a moment of smugness in the fact that the movement didn’t even break their kiss, broken by what Sylvain thinks may be a life changing moment when Felix manages to roll his hips, bringing forth the realisation that they’re in the perfect position to be doing so many wonderful, wonderful things. Of course, that had been the idea… But it was another thing to have those imaginings come to fruition. And not only was Felix’s crotch in the perfect position to create delicious friction against Sylvain’s own, but the stable block was possibly one of the most private places in the whole monastery during the middle hours of the day; once the horses had been turned out in the paddocks and the stables had all been cleaned in preparation for the evening, it was usually left deserted until it came time to bring everyone back in for their nighttime meals.
Sylvain nips at Felix’s lower lip before breaking the kiss, his breathing a little heavier as he looks over the other boy’s flushed face. “Stop staring,” Felix snaps; of course he’s prickly even when his lips are kiss-swollen and his legs are wrapped tightly about Sylvain’s waist. Even when there’s a growing hardness in his pants. Wait- Sylvain glances down between them, and sure enough, there was a noticeable bulge to Felix’s uniform pants. Not that he can say anything in judgement, because just the sight of that alone is enough to make Sylvain’s dick twitch in interest.
When he glanced back up again, the tips of Felix’s ears have heated, redder than his cheeks and giving away his embarrassment. “Don’t you dare say anything,” he says, earning a pout from Sylvain.
“Why not? What if I wanna tell you how much I wanna see you? Touch you?” He presses his hips in closer to his friend’s, rolling his weight forward onto the balls of his feet to grind their growing erections together through the material of their pants. “Goddess, Felix- You don’t know how badly I want you.”
Felix makes a soft strangled sound; part of it in embarrassment, part of it in pleasure. “Do it again,” he says after swallowing thickly. His hands, which had been splayed out over Sylvain’s upper back, now curl into the material of his shirt again, tugging like it’ll make Sylvain roll his hips forwards again. Which it does; the redhead is more than eager to be rid of even a millimetre of space between them, letting out a heavy breath as grinds them together again, hungry fingers digging into the suppleness of Felix’s ass to help guide his hips in return.
It doesn’t take long before Sylvain’s cock has hardened out fully, trapped in the confines of his pants. “We’re wearing too many clothes,” he says, earning an agreeing sound from Felix that makes him grin. Making sure the swordsman’s back is pressed firmly against the stable wall, he runs his hands from Felix’s rear around to the waistband of his pants, giving him a look that asks, Can I undo them? The short nod he receives in return is all the permission he needs, deft fingers unbuttoning and unlacing the pants, pulling them open enough to slip his hand in and pull Felix’s erection free.
Sylvain’s first observation is that Felix is thick. He’s weighty in his hold, the head flushed the same pink as his cheeks, and when Sylvain rubs his thumb over the slit, he twitches in his hold. The soft sound of pleasure that Felix makes has Sylvain’s heart skipping a beat, pride swelling in his chest that the fact that not only is Felix aroused because of him, but that he got him to make such a delightful noise; he’s determined to earn a dozen more from him before they leave the stables.
“You too,” Felix says before Sylvain can find out other ways to make him moan, one hand coming around to fumble with the fastenings of the knight’s pants. Sylvain can’t help but give a short laugh at Felix’s apparent eagerness, reluctantly releasing his hold on his friend’s dick in order to help free his own. He’s slightly longer than Felix, he notes with some measure of smugness, but doesn’t have quite the same girthiness. Elegant fingers and a calloused palm wrap around Sylvain’s length, quickly distracting him from further comparison.
“I’ve been wanting this as well,” Felix admits, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue, brows furrowed slightly in concentration as he strokes Sylvain slowly. It’s dry and rough, but Sylvain doesn’t think he’s felt anything better in his life. “Wanting you…”
The redhead thinks that was made more than obvious when Felix had dragged him into their first kiss, but Sylvain isn’t about to stop Felix from expressing his thoughts and desires.
“Yeah? What’ve you been thinking about, Flick?” Sylvain twitches in Felix’s grip at the thought of him touching himself, imagining Sylvain’s hands on his body instead of his own. “Me touching you? Fucking you?” The audible intake of breath from Felix lets Sylvain know he’s hit the mark. “‘Cause I’ve been thinking about that too… Filling you up. Leaving marks over your throat, just high enough that your collar can’t hide them.” He kisses Felix’s cheek before dragging his lips lower, down the pale length of throat before him to kiss just above the line of Felix’s shirt collar.
He can feel Felix’s pulse jump under his lips, making Sylvain smile against warm, fair skin. “I’ve wanted you for so long… I never thought you’d want me too.”
“Shut up, idiot,” Felix says, punctuating his words by briefly tightening his grip on Sylvain’s cock. “Like I ever showed interest in anyone else.” There’s an undercurrent of embarrassment in his voice, which Sylvain can’t help but find somewhat amusing considering they were literally dick to dick. “Like I would make the promises I made with you with anyone else.”
Sylvain’s heart skipped a beat as he recalled the promise they made when they were only children and the fact that Felix still remembered it, a dozen years on. “I wouldn’t make them with anyone but you either,” he says, pulling back to meet Felix’s eyes, his expression open and earnest. There’s so many things bubbling in his chest, waiting to be blurted out in this vulnerable moment, but Felix’s fingers pinching at the head of his cock make him think they may be saved for a better time.
Shifting his hips, he looked down between them instead, reaching to once again take hold of Felix’s length. “It’s a bit dry,” he says, making sure his grip isn’t too tight as he strokes his friend. “Spit’s no good, dries too quick.” Felix makes a disgusted face at that, before glancing over Sylvain’s shoulder. The redhead turns his head to follow his line of sight, eyes settling on the tub of grease.
“I am not running back across the monastery with my dick hard,” Felix says bluntly. “So if that doesn’t work-” There’s a threat in his voice that Sylvain perceives as then sexy times will stop , not that Felix would ever use those words. Giving a nod of understanding, he doesn’t even put the shorter teen down as he steps away from the wall and over to where his gear has been abandoned.
“Can you reach it?” he asks, bending his knees slightly so that Felix can grab it; he doesn’t want to try to get it himself, lest he drop the swordsman. Once the now multipurpose grease is in hand, Sylvain is quick to return Felix’s back to the wall of the stable, brushing his lips against his jawline. “Hopefully we don’t regret using this-”
“If something happens and we have to ask Mercedes to heal us, I’m blaming you,” Felix says bluntly, even as he tips his head to the side to offer up the length of his neck to Sylvain’s lips again. “Now get some of this on your fingers so we can put it back on the floor.” The paladin is quick to comply, blindly scooping some of the grease out with his fingers before pressing it into his palm, smearing it out and warming it up before wrapping his hand around Felix’s cock again.
“That’s better,” Felix says, eyelids fluttering in pleasure as Sylvain strokes him slowly. There’s no friction dragging the velvety skin along with the pumping movements so Sylvain tightens his grip, twisting his wrist slightly and smirking when Felix’s hips twitch upwards. He can’t even be upset it’s taking the other boy a while to get his hand around his dick again, not when Felix looks so ethereal as he allows himself to settle into the pleasure.
Felix finally remembers himself, the tips of his ears red as he dips his fingers into the tub, taking a generous amount to cover his palm with before finally, finally taking Sylvain in hand again. The redhead gives a shameless moan, using his free hand to drop the tub of grease to the floor before nudging it aside with one foot. Now, with the dilemma of lubricant solved, he can focus entirely on the one in his lap.
“Kiss me again,” he requests, thoroughly enjoying the way Felix looks almost shy before he leans up to close the gap between their lips. Sylvain parts his almost immediately, a clear invitation for Felix to deepen it. With some measure of hesitation, the swordsman does so; the tip of his tongue traces along the other’s lower lip and then the underside of his upper teeth before curling against Sylvain’s tongue.
Another moan is pulled from Sylvain, though this one is muffled by Felix’s tongue and lips against his own. His hand mimics the movements of their kiss, twisting his grip as their tongues curl against each other’s. Pleasure sparks up his spine as Felix tightens his grip on him, the muscles of his thighs quivering.
“Don’t you dare drop me,” Felix says against his spit-slick lips, Sylvain whining softly at the fact he had broken the kiss to threaten him.
“I would never,” he proclaims, a touch dramatic. “Have some faith in me.” Felix gives a soft huff but doesn’t release his hold on the one holding him up against the stable wall, his thumb rubbing over the exposed head before he dips his thumbnail ever so slightly into the slit, earning a hiss of pleasure from Sylvain.
“You get easily distracted,” Felix hums matter-of-factly; Sylvain thinks it entirely unfair and somewhat insulting that his voice is still so even, but assures himself he’ll have the younger sounding well fucked by the time he’s finished with him. “Especially when it comes to matters that pertain your dick.”
“Hey,” he says, acting offended even if he can’t really deny the truth in Felix’s callout. “I am very focused at the moment, because this pertains your dick, and I’m very interested in that.” He gives a rather tight squeeze of his fist around Felix’s length, smirking at the sharp inhale he earns.
“Of course you’re interested in getting dick too,” Felix shoots back once he’s regained his composure, or at least as much of it as he can regain when his trousers are pushed down around his thighs and he’s being held up against a wall with his hard cock being stroked by one of his oldest friends.
“I never said I was only into girls,” Sylvain points out. “Everyone just assumed. Which is stupid, really. Girls are hot, but so are guys. Especially this one guy…” He trails off, giving Felix a pointed look and grinning at the renewed blush he gets in response.
“Shut up. You’re talking too much,” is the response he gets, which he supposes is fair - these conversations can be had later, when there isn’t the chance that someone will stumble across them with their dicks out and hard in a public place. Sylvain might enjoy the thrill of it, but that didn’t mean he really wanted to be caught in the act. Not to mention that he liked having his cock attached to his body, and he was sure if they were caught, Felix wouldn’t hesitate to separate it from him.
“If you’ve thought about kissing me,” he says after a moment, never be able to keep his mouth shut for long even with the warning look Felix gives him, “have you touched yourself when thinking about me? More specifically- Have you fingered yourself?” As much as he doesn’t want to stop touching Felix’s dick, he has a burning curiosity to know how he’d react to touch further back; with a little effort, he shifts the swordsman’s weight to transfer it more against the wall, his grease slicked hand trailing over Felix’s left hip and supple cheek before pressing into the cleft of his ass and against the tight ring of muscle there.
Felix had opened his mouth to respond but emits a moan instead, his back arching slightly away from the wooden wall in an effort to press his hips into the teasing touch. His hold on Sylvain’s length tightens, earning a rumbled groan of pleasure in return. “You’re sensitive,” Sylvain observes, rubbing the pad of his forefinger against Felix, encouraging him to relax before easing the digit into the first knuckle.
“You don’t need to be so gentle,” Felix says; his voice isn’t as even as it had been moments ago, much to Sylvain’s satisfaction.
“Am I not allowed to take my time with you? Learn your body?” the knight responds, even as he continues to press his finger in deeper, biting his lower lip at the way Felix’s body easily allows entry. It doesn’t take long until his first finger is buried in to the last knuckle. Sylvain strokes the pad of it against Felix’s inner walls before slowly drawing it back out to the first knuckle and then easing it in once again, settling into a steady pace.
As he had when Sylvain first wrapped his lubricated hand around his length, Felix’s hand ceases its motions, but the older boy can’t find it in himself to complain, not when he’s hoping he’ll soon replace his fingers with something more substantial. If Felix’s warm, calloused hand felt good, he can only imagine how the tight heat of his body will feel around him.
After several minutes of pumping his first finger in and out of Felix’s body, Sylvain teases his entrance with a second before pressing it in, expression smug as the dark head of hair thuds dully back against the wall. “Sylvain—” The way Felix utters his name could be described as a mewl, and Sylvain doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything so arousing in his twenty years. Not even his dreams compared to the way Felix actually sounded; that was saying something, considering Sylvain’s imagination and the innumerable amount of times he’d daydreamed about his best friend.
“Yes, Felix?” he asks innocently as he presses his fingers in as deep as he could before scissoring them apart slowly. The sounds that spill past Felix’s kiss swollen lips make Sylvain’s cock twitch in the other’s slack hold; if he’s earning these sounds with merely his fingers, what could he pull from him with his cock?
He continues to spread and curl his fingers, trying to find the angles that earn the most delightful sounds from the swordsman. It doesn’t take long before he’s spreading his fingers wide with ease, Felix’s body eager and accommodating to the stretch.
“Another,” Felix demandingly requests after several minutes of Sylvain working at him with two digits, earning a smirk from the one those fingers were connected to.
“Where are your manners?” Sylvain teases, though he doesn’t push Felix to tack on a please to the end of his demand before he eases his ring finger in alongside his other two.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” Felix says, his voice thick with pleasure as Sylvain’s three fingers spread him wide. “I rank higher than you.” His voice climbs half an octave partway during his sentence as long fingers brush fleetingly against the bundle of nerves that makes stars pop in the outer field of his vision.
“You’re right. Sorry. Where are your manners, Lord Felix?” Sylvain’s tone is mockingly serious, and even with three fingers buried up to the last knuckle in his ass, Felix manages to roll his eyes. “So beautiful even when you direct your exasperation at me.”
“Sylvain, I swear-” He’s cut off from further threats by the knight’s fingers locating his prostate once again, but there’s nothing fleeting about these touches. Sylvain kneads at the sensitive gland, and Felix’s words meld into an uncharacteristically loud cry that seems to thrum through the confined space of the stable. It sends sparks of heat down Sylvain’s spine, and his cock twitches in Felix’s hold, earning an absent stroke in return. He hadn’t ever heard Felix be so loud, not even on the battlefield where his anger and drive to best everyone - enemy and ally alike - was almost palpable enough to be wielded as another sword.
“What was that?” Sylvain asks, feigning innocence now even with the smirk that’s settled on his lips. He curled his fingers just so again; Felix’s brow furrowed as another cry escaped from his lips, muscular thighs tightening around Sylvain’s waist.
“Just hurry up and fuck me already,” Felix blurts in reponse. There’s a neediness in his voice that goes straight to Sylvain’s core, making him pause for a moment before the swordsman’s body clenches down around his three fingers, prompting Sylvain to scissor them apart again and earn another soft groan. He can’t even tease Felix about still not using his manners, because he’s aching to bury himself to the hilt in his best friend, more than he’s ever ached to be inside anyone else (even when he had guiltily thought of Felix as he laid with another, biting down harshly on his own tongue to stop himself from moaning the wrong name).
Sylvain pulls his fingers free, wishing he could’ve seen the way Felix’s body gaped momentarily at the sudden emptiness. “Grab the grease again for me,” he requests, bending his knees so that the younger can reach the tub. With it in hand once more, Sylvain takes another copious handful to work over his cock, giving soft sounds of his own as he strokes his aching erection. When he’s confident he’s as slick as he’ll get without proper lubricant, he widens his stance and guides himself against Felix’s prepped hole.
Seeing the heir to the dukedom open his mouth, presumably to tell Sylvain to hurry up, he shifts his hips forwards, easing the head of his length into Felix’s body. He watches as his jaw slackens momentarily, eyes closing as he curled his fingers in the material of Sylvain’s shirt. “More,” he utters, voice guttural. Sylvain is more than happy to comply. He grips large handfuls of Felix’s upper thighs as he continues to press his hips forwards, holding his breath until he bottoms out. He’s had some pretty good sex in his life, but nothing compares to how Felix feels around him, against him, in his arms. Is this what’s it’s like to be with someone you l- He brings his internal thoughts to a grinding halt. That four lettered word… He’s never felt it for anyone and he never will. Not even Felix, for whom he would lay his life down without hesitation.
Fingers curling in the hair at the nape of his neck drag him back to the moment. “Fuck me.” Felix’s tone leaves no room for argument, and Sylvain thinks he should’ve known that the younger would take and demand what he wanted even when he was being railed. Well- soon to be railed. Sylvain wastes no time in drawing his hips back until only the head of his cock resides in Felix’s body before slamming back in, delighting in the sound he’s rewarded with.
Felix tips his head back against the stable wall once again, and Sylvain is too weak to ignore the invitation the pale expanse of his throat. Leaning in, he brushed his lips over his pulse point, feeling the heavy thud of his heart. The urge to bite swells in his gut, so that’s what he does, earning a sharp inhale from Felix before his hand cups the back of Sylvain’s head, encouraging him on as he laves his tongue over the skin between his teeth. When he pulls back, he admires the slick area and quickly blooming bruise with a sense of possessive satisfaction, even if he knew he was going to have face Felix’s anger over the obvious mark later.
“Look at you,” he breathes, admiring Felix who still had his head against the wall, eyes half closed to leave burning mahogany eyes watching Sylvain through unfairly thick lashes. “You’re so gorgeous, Felix.” Each word is punctuated with a thrust; Sylvain spares a thought for how knotty the swordsman’s hair is going to be by the end of their fun. Maybe he’ll be allowed to brush it out, braid it back like he does with his horse’s mane before battle to save it getting caught in the joints of the armour.
The hint of a smile curls the corners of Felix’s lips with Sylvain’s compliment, making the redhead’s heart skip a beat. He remembers every time Felix has smiled because of him, especially since Glenn’s death, and to earn one during such an intimate moment… Sylvain knows he won’t be forgetting this afternoon anytime soon, for a multitude of reasons. He can feel the heat spread over his cheeks and to the tips of his ears for a reason other than the exertion of holding the smaller teen up. If Felix wasn’t already looking so out of it, he was sure that he would be made fun of for getting flustered over a smile.
Regathering himself, Sylvain shifts his focus to finding the spot that will have Felix crying out so prettily again. At this point, he doesn’t care if they end up becoming loud enough to draw attention to their location and activities. Let them know that he’s the one Felix has chosen. He rolls his hips upwards rather than simply thrusting forward; a few attempts soon have him hitting the angle perfectly, the swordsman’s jaw falling slack once again as he gives a trembling keen. Sylvain maintains the angle as best he can, and the constant abuse to Felix’s prostate has his cries melting into soft, near constant whimpers.
“Please,” Felix utters, almost inaudible over the lewd slap of their bodies meeting. “I can’t- I’m gonna-” Sylvain never imagined he’d hear Felix beg , especially in such a situation, but the desperation in his voice makes his cock twitch within the tight clutches of the other’s body, and he knows he won’t be lasting much longer himself. Hoping Felix’s legs around his waist are wrapped tight enough to for Sylvain to support him with only one hand, he brings the other to curl around the younger’s cock once again, stroking him with little finesse.
“Then come,” he directs. He can feel Felix’s body tense, his thighs constricting even tighter around his midsection, the hand in his hair tugging harshly enough to move from pleasurable to downright painful, but the warm wetness that is soon coating his hand is a pretty good distraction. Sylvain manages to trap the majority of Felix’s release to save it splattering against his uniform, not that he’s really thinking of such a fickle thing when his friend’s body is pulsating around him. Pressing his hips flush against the curve of the other’s ass, Sylvain lets himself be pulled over the edge, spilling deep into Felix with a groan of his name, his head dropping down against his shoulder and panting heavily as he’s milked for all he’s worth.
It’s with quite a bit of effort that Sylvain manages to keep both himself and Felix from collapsing into a pile in the sawdust; his legs feel like jelly, and Felix suddenly weighs twice what he did when they started. “Think you can stand on your own?” he asks, still panting softly. When the other gives a nod of confirmation, he takes a step back away from the wall to carefully settle him on his feet, his clean hand remaining on his waist to make sure he’s stable.
Releasing a sigh, Felix looks up at Sylvain, making eye contact which he maintains as he reaches for his dirtied hand and lifts it up to his mouth. His tongue darts out to lap over Sylvain’s forefinger, cleaning up his own release. The knight feels his softened dick give a pathetic twitch of interest, but even as young as he is, it just isn’t physically possible for him to get hard again so soon, as much as he wishes he could. Still, he watches with rapt interest as Felix continues to lick his hand clean, taking his time as he works his tongue between his fingers and suckles at his fingertips, giving Sylvain a very good idea of what he’s capable of doing with his mouth.
Felix finally grazes his teeth over Sylvain’s thumb before he releases his hold on his wrist and turns his attention to his state of mess. “You did a number on me,” he says, and Sylvain isn’t really sure if it’s a complaint or not. The swordsman presses his fingers against the dark bruise the other left on his throat, hissing slightly in pain. “I suppose we should go wash… I don’t particularly want the mess you left in me to dry on my skin.” He gives a pointed look as he reaches to pull his hair free of its confines, combing it out with his fingers. Sylvain can’t stop himself from reaching out to push his own fingers through it, twisting it around his hold.
“Yeah, we should,” he agrees, though he makes no move to do so. Felix rolls his eyes fondly, stepping forward to close the gap between them and stretch up to kiss the older boy, far sweeter and softer than any of the kisses they’d shared during their fun. Mirroring his dick from moments ago, his heart gives a twitch as he returns the kiss, unable to stop himself from smiling against Felix’s lips. “Hm. Sentimental idiot,” he says when they part, and Sylvain gives a guilty, agreeing shrug as he starts to pull his pants back up for the trip across the monastery to the bath house.
With a wrinkle of his nose, Felix does the same, tucking his shirt in before fastening his belt. “Should you put your gear away?” he asks, gesturing with a tilt of his chin to Sylvain’s abandoned tack. Sylvain gives it glance before sighing, settling his hands on his head to stretch out his back.
“I should… But I’ll come back once we’re clean. I don’t particularly want to hear you complaining about the mess you’re in more than I have to.” He steps aside with a laugh to avoid Felix’s threateningly raised hand before turning to unlatch the stable door, stepping out and waiting for the other teen to follow before closing it again. “If you want to go ahead to the bath house, I’ll run back to the dormitories to get us some clean clothes. I’m in a better state than you are.”
Felix gives a nod in answer; Sylvain can see the sleepy haze that’s beginning to settle over his face, and there’s something adorable about it, because Felix can train for hours without taking a break, but one round of sex has him looking like he’s longing for bed. Sylvain can’t help but mentally pat himself on the back. They walk side by side until he diverts off to make his detour to the dormitories and Felix continues onto the bath house with a soft, “See you soon.”
Sylvain definitely does not jog across the monastery grounds to the dormitories, nor take the stairs two at a time as he makes his way up to the second level and then down the hallway to where his and Felix’s rooms are. He grabs clothes for himself first before entering the swordsman’s room, wrinkling his nose slightly at the somewhat haphazard state it was in. At least his clean and dirty clothes are kept separate, and once he’s found a comfortable tunic and a pair of trousers, he makes his way back down to ground level and to the bath house.
It’s warm and humid when he steps inside, blinking a couple of times to adjust to the dimmer lighting. Felix is already undressed and settled in one of the large baths, only his eyes and the top of his head visible above the water. His hair fans out over the water’s surface, and Sylvain can’t help but think of the sirens he used to love in fairytales: dangerous, ethereal, irresistible. Even if Felix isn’t singing like the alluring mythical creatures in his childhood books, Sylvain feels drawn in, setting their fresh clothes aside and stripping himself off hastily, nearly tripping over his pants before he manages to kick them off and away. Now naked, he makes his way to the bath Felix is soaking in, lowering himself in with a low sigh of satisfaction.
He allows himself to float over to his friend, reaching out when he’s close enough to let his fingers comb through the silky strands of ink dark hair. “Will you let me wash it for you?” he asks without thought. It’s something he’s asked before, in the past - most of the time Felix had wrinkled his nose and said he was capable of washing his own hair, thank you. This time however, he gives another nod, and a bright smile spreads across Sylvain’s lips.
“The soap is on the side,” Felix adds on, gesturing towards where he’s sat a washcloth and a bar of soap for them to use. Sylvain pushes through the heated water to snatch up the items before returning to the other teen’s side, handing him the cloth to hold for now before he dunks the bar of soap under the water and begins to lather up his hands. The soap is then also passed to Felix, who takes it with a reluctant grumble that melts into a soft moan as Sylvain pushes his fingers up through damp tresses, working his hair into a sudsy pile atop his head, occasionally taking the soap from Felix’s hand, which he holds above the water for Sylvain’s easy access, to add to the suds.
Once satisfied Felix’s hair is thoroughly cleaned, he guides the younger teen to float on his back so he can wash it out, combing his fingers through the long strands and gently raking his nails over his scalp. The entire time, Felix keeps his eyes shut, his face relaxed; his peaceful, content expression makes Sylvain’s chest full with warm affection, and he can’t help himself from leaning down to kiss him softly before gently tapping the fingers of the hand supporting Felix between his shoulder blades to tell him he can stand again.
A soft hum emanates from Felix, who instead of standing blindly reaches up to cup the back of Sylvain’s head before he can straighten up himself, pulling him down to slot their mouths together again. Sylvain has that strange, overwhelming sensation he had in the stables as he kisses Felix’s back, the emotion he’d always felt he never deserved to experience or feel. But his best friend has always pushed him into doing things he usually wouldn’t do, has always pushed him to better. And with Felix at his side, Sylvain feels like he’s at his best.
“I love you,” he blurts when they part to breathe. Whereas he feels like his heart might climb up his throat and out of his mouth, Felix simply blinks lazily, still floating on his back as a smile curls the edges of his lips and creases the corners of his eyes. Even if he doesn’t say it back verbally, Sylvain knows in that moment that he feels the same - maybe he has for a long time - but for once he doesn’t feel the need to think of the what ifs. They have each other, and there’s genuine happiness blooming in his chest, the kind he hadn't felt in years.
Allowing Felix to drift away from him in the gentle current that the water being delivered by the aqueduct caused, Sylvain turns his attention to washing himself. He steals glances over to the other as he scrubs down his body and washes his hair. Felix has his eyes closed the majority of the time, but occasionally their gazes meet, causing both of them to blush and look away again, trying to contain their smiles.
Whilst Felix would usually be in and out of the bath as quickly as possible, he seems more than content to soak in the heated water until he’s reached a prune-like state, and Sylvain is happy to stay in his company. After nearly an hour, the swordsman finally pulls himself from the water, squeezing the excess water from his hair as he grabs one of the towels he’d set aside for them earlier.
“Stop staring,” he says; his voice seems loud in the steamy room after the silence they had settled into. Sylvain smiles sheepishly, climbing out of the bath himself and padding over to where the other teen is, grabbing the second towel.
“I can’t help it. You’re beautiful.” Felix gives a scoff in response, but the tips of his ears have flushed pink and Sylvain knows he’s secretly flattered. They slip back into silence as they dress, covering up their scars and bruises once again. He wonders if Felix will let him kiss them, take some of the pain and memories they carry, but he keeps the question to himself for now, instead extending a large hand out to the other once they’re both ready to leave the bath house.
Felix looks at the offered hand for a moment, and Sylvain thinks he might have to withdraw and laugh off the rejection before the swordsman reaches out and slots their fingers together. Sylvain has to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying something sappy about their hands fit together perfectly, afraid that would cause Felix to pull away. Instead, he smiles as radiant as the sun and tosses their towels into the used laundry hamper on their way out.
The walk in step back across the monastery grounds and up the stairs to the second floor dormitories. The hallway seems so short now, far shorter than when he’d dashed up earlier to grab the clothing they were now dressed in. They reach the last three doors - Felix’s, Dimitri’s, and then Sylvain’s. Sylvain wonders if he should request Dimitri to swap with Felix.
“I love you too, you know.” He only just manages to hear Felix’s soft admission, ripping him back from his daydreams where Dimitri is too awkward and polite to confront them about their sudden shared activities. “Don’t ask me to say it again, though.” Sylvain blinks before crowding Felix up against the door to his room, kissing him like Felix had for the first time in the stables. Suddenly, he doesn’t care if Dimitri, or anyone else, hears them as he fumbles with the handle, nearly upending them onto his floor when the door swings open.
“Idiot,” Felix says, but there’s a fondness in his voice as he tugs Sylvain into the room and kicks the door closed behind them. Sylvain tells himself he can put his tack away later - right now, he has some bedroom duty to attend to.